“Three centuries.” She says it slowly, as if testing the weight of it. “You’ve been carrying this—whatever is inside you—for three hundred years. Because you loved me.”
“Because the Shadow Clan wanted to make an example. A warning to any dragon who might be tempted to see Fire-Bringers as anything more than resources.” I keep my voice steady, even though the memories are clawing at the edges of my control. “They couldn’t kill me quickly—I was too useful as a symbol. So they designed something that would kill me slowly instead. Let me suffer. Let everyone see what happens to dragons who disobey.”
She stands abruptly, her chair scraping against the stone floor. Her hands are trembling—I can see it from across the room, the fine shiver she can’t quite control.
“Tell me what happened that night.” Her voice shakes. “The full truth. Not pieces, not implications—everything.”
“Nasyra—“
“You said you arrived too late. You said I died on an altar while you fought to reach me.” She crosses the distance between us, stopping just out of arm’s reach. Close enough that I can see the fear beneath her anger. The desperate need to understand. “What aren’t you telling me? What happened before that? How did they take me in the first place?”
I look at her—really look at her. The sharp lines of her face, softened by exhaustion and grief. The way she holds herself, defensive and defiant all at once. The tears gathering in her eyes that she’s too proud to let fall.
This woman. This fierce, broken, beautiful woman. She deserves the truth. All of it.
But some truths have to be remembered, not told. Otherwise, they’re just another kind of poison.
I make a choice.
“We were supposed to meet that night,” I begin. “You and I. There was a place in the forest—a clearing we’d found together, somewhere private, away from everyone who disapproved of what we were becoming. We’d planned to make decisions about our future. Whether to stay and fight for acceptance, or leave and build something new somewhere else.”
“But you didn’t meet me.”
“I was delayed. Shadow Clan forces attacked the outpost where I was stationed—a distraction, I realized later. Designed to keep me occupied while...” The words stick in my throat. “While you were being taken to the altar.”
“Taken by who?”
This is where it gets dangerous. This is where I have to decide how much truth she can handle.
“Someone you trusted.” I watch her face carefully. “Someone who knew where you’d be, and when. Someone who led you into the forest with gentle hands and reassuring words.”
Her breath catches. “Who?”
“I can’t tell you that.”
“Can’t, or won’t?”
“Both.” I hold her gaze, willing her to understand. “If I tell you, you’ll think it’s another manipulation. Another lie designed to turn you against people you loved. You have to remember it yourself, Nasyra. That’s the only way you’ll believe it.”
“That’s not fair.”
“No. It’s not.” I take a step closer, close enough to see the tears gathering in her eyes. “Nothing about this is fair. You died. You were brought back with your memories twisted. You’ve beenlied to and used and manipulated by people who saw you as nothing more than a weapon. And now I’m telling you that the only way forward is to remember a truth that will break your heart.”
“Then why won’t you just tell me?”
“Because you’ll hate me for it.” The admission costs me more than I expected. “You’ll think I’m trying to destroy what little you have left. And even if you eventually believe me—even if the memories come back and prove I’m telling the truth—part of you will always wonder if I planted that seed. If I manipulated you the same way Lakhu did.”
She stares at me. The tears spill over, tracking down her cheeks in silent streams.
“What I can tell you,” I continue, my voice rough, “is that when I finally reached you, you were already gone. Your blood was in the channels. Your life had been used to fuel the magic that would punish me for loving you. And the person who betrayed you—“ My hands clench at my sides. “I killed him. With my bare hands. While the shadows took root in my soul.”
“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”
“No. But it’s the truth. All of it that I can give you right now.”
The silence stretches between us,heavy with grief and confusion and years of unspoken words.
Nasyra wraps her arms around herself, a gesture of self-protection I’ve seen before. She used to do it when she was overwhelmed—when the emotions got too big to contain and she needed something to hold onto.
